


Solitude

by sullacat



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Archery, Companions, Crossover, Dark Brotherhood - Freeform, Dark Magic, Dragonborn - Freeform, Dragons, F/M, M/M, Mind Control, Stormcloaks, Thieves Guild, Video & Computer Games, Wartime Romance, Were-Creatures
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-12-06 07:04:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sullacat/pseuds/sullacat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawk has always lived alone. A chance encounter with a dragon changes his life forever. </p><p>An Avengers fic written in the Elder Scrolls: Skyrim universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solitude

**Author's Note:**

> This is all [Altilis](http://archiveofourown.org/users/altilis/pseuds/altilis)' fault. 
> 
> There may be spoilers for some of the main quest lines in Skyrim. As much as the location of the fic would be foreign to anyone who hasn't played the game, I think most readers would be able to follow along without too much trouble.

**Before The Storm**

"I remember you."

He stood before the overlarge chair, nodding his head deferentially, but still not speaking to the seated man addressing him. There were several others in the room, but it was clear from their posture who the leader was. Cloaked in a fur cape, One-Eyed Nick looked down from his oversized throne, assessing him with a serious look on his face. "You were with us at Helgen." 

_Helgen_. He still had nightmares about that afternoon. Tossed in the back of a wagon for no reason other than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Fire and screaming. The scent of burning wood, and a dragon that saved his life, changed it forever.

 _What is your name?_ the Imperials had asked, right before sentencing him to death. It'd taken a while before he answered them. 

He'd had a name once, back in High Rock. Parents, but they died young. A brother, but he'd abandoned him as soon as he was old enough to make his own way. There wasn't anyone in the world now who called him that name, forgotten. 

Hawk, he eventually told them, because that was who he was. Who he'd become. 

"Hawk," he murmured now, aware of every eye in the room on him. Hawk was what he went by now. Free as the birds in the sky, the solitary predator who prefered the high cliffs to the land below. 

"Yes, that's right." Nick repeated his name, his face heavily scarred beneath the patch that covered his eye. "You were brave that day, my friend." 

Hawk smirked to himself as he pointed over at the tall Nord in the Stormcloak armor standing behind the Jarl's lieutenant. Hawk remembered his name. _Steve_. "That man there, he was the brave one. Led me out of the fire after the attack. He got me out of the city, led me here to you. I'd be dead if it wasn't for him." 

One-Eyed Nick nodded at Steve, who blushed a little at the attention. A strange look for a soldier... "Then I am grateful to you both. Come," he said, standing. "Tonight we feast. You are welcome here at my table, Hawk."

* * *

Windhelm was cold. 

Candlehearth Hall was well-situated in the center of the city, and the rooms were clean and inexpensive. Hawk couldn't remember the last time he stayed so many days in a proper city, but the Jarl had bounties out for some bandits. That and other small services for various townspeople kept him busy, coin in his pockets, and at the end of each day Hawk found himself perched at a table in the back, watching the people as they wandered in and out of the snow. 

But tonight, he was lost in thought over another change in his life, this one of his own choosing. "It was a good decision, pledging your allegiance to Nick," Steve told him, a tankard of mead in his hand and a large bowl of what smelled like horker stew in front of him. "Stormcloaks take care of their own. You won't regret this." 

But Hawk shrugged as Steve inhaled his meal, then an additional apple pie. By and large he'd tried to stay out of the escalating civil war between the Imperials and the Nords native to this land, the Stormcloak rebellion. 

That is, until Helgen. 

"Being a soldier - it's a good living," Steve repeated, finishing his drink. "Furious Nick, his cause is the right one. The Empire-"

But Hawk didn't want to hear any of it, not tonight. "I don't fight for causes," Hawk interrupted, nodded as the barmaid brought them both another round. "Not much gold in causes."

Steve leaned back in his chair, his sword and shield on the ground behind him. Blond hair, bright blue eyes, serious mein - Steve was the perfect Nord, in every way. "I've seen you fight, Hawk. What you did at Korvanjund, retrieving the Jagged Crown for Nick... your skills will be well used in our ranks, you could rise quickly." Hawk must have made some sort of face, because Steve stopped talking for a few moments, before adding, "The Stormcloaks, we're family. Your family now," he cracked a small smile, "even to Bretons like you." When Hawk didn't answer, Steve paused, trying to catch his eye. "You don't have to be alone all the time."

They didn't understand. "I like being alone, Steve. I'm just not like you." Maybe he had been once, when he traveled with the caravans, the entertainers. A lifetime ago. 

Too many years on his own. If Korvanjund had taught him anything, it was how hard it was to hunt and fight with others around him. "I'm just as likely to get you killed, shooting at the wrong person. I am not exactly a team player. Besides, I've been summoned to the Palace tomorrow," Hawk sighed, wondering what he'd gotten himself into with that oath. Lifting his mug to Steve, he toasted his good health. "But I wish you well taking that fort tomorrow."

"Talos be praised," Steve murmured, drinking from his tankard. But Hawk just nodded his head. The days when he believed in any of the gods were long gone.

* * *

The next day, Hawk made his way to the Palace of the Kings. "Disturbances in Whiterun," Nick's spies said, insinuating that Jarl Balgruuf was making overtures toward the Empire. 

"It's time for him to pick a side. I want you to offer this to him," Jarl Nick said, holding up a jeweled axe before handing it to Hawk. "Bring me his answer when he is ready."

Hawk understood the importance of this task, and wasn't surprised when Phillip, the Jarl's lieutenant pulled him aside, wanting to dine with Hawk that evening before he left in the morning. "They call you "Son of Coul," Hawk said, breaking a loaf of bread in two pieces, handing one to the other man. "Your father?" 

Phillip smiled softly. "Yes. He fought bravely under Old King Torygg's father, Istlod, for years. Many here in Windhelm still remember him." There was something surprisingly calming about this man, the highest ranking Stormcloak after Furious Nick himself. Didn't seem the soldier type. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," Hawk said, pushing his plate back. People could ask. Didn't mean he'd answer.

"Why did you join us?" 

It wasn't the question Hawk had expected. But it was the question he'd been asking himself. "I don't know," Hawk told Phillip honestly. "I suppose... at the time it seemed the right thing to do. It felt right, being a part of something bigger than myself." Maybe even just to see if he _could_ do it, if he could complete their initiation quest - slay their monster, be admitted to their ranks. "But I've always worked alone, in the shadows. I'm not the sort of soldier that storms castles and rescues maidens," he spoke softly, as if embarrassed admitting this. 

"They said you took down the ice wraith on Serpentstone Isle with a bow and single arrow." When Hawk didn't answer, Phillip whistled low. "That's impossible."

"I kill things." In the end, that is who Hawk was. He watched. He waited. He killed. Not the hero at all. "It fought well." It died well. That was what mattered.

But there was something else in Phillip's eyes that warmed Hawk, even in this frozen city. More than mere admiration. "I'd like to hear more about that ice wraith," Phillip told him, leaning forward, and Hawk felt Phillip's leg pressing against his own. 

Hawk looked up into curious blue eyes. Friendly, with a hint of something hotter burning inside. "I've got a room upstairs," he said, finishing his drink. When Phillip nodded silently, Hawk stood, tossing a few coins at Susanna for the ale, and followed Phillip upstairs, closing the door behind them.


End file.
